Worth It
by MessyJess
Summary: A multi-chapter story about the beginnings of romance between Booth and Brennan. Rated M for language, and later, for sex. Please read and review.
1. Worth It

Sometimes we give in

Sometimes we give in. Sometimes we do things that we know will hurt us later. Physically, emotionally, mentally, that pain we rationalize ourselves into bearing, will soon come back to haunt us. But every so often, on the rarest of occasions, the pain actually winds up being worth it. It was worth it that night.

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Women are complicated. Men are complicated. People, in general, are complicated. The most complicated thing about people is that they assume everyone around them is totally normal and well balanced, and that they're the only ones that are fucked up. But in reality, everyone shares a pretty healthy amount of fucked-upness. Everyone has layers upon layers of abnormalities, and he had a theory that the people who denied it the most, were the ones with really weird shit going on in their cabesas. This theory explained the frequency of 'upright' senators getting rim jobs in park bathrooms. It also explained the room he was standing in.

It was Thursday afternoon and he and his partner were in the most unabashedly ridiculous bachelor pad he had ever seen. There was a goddamn machine that blacked out the windows and propelled a wet bar to emerge from the coffee table like some kind of stealth bomber. Lights and music flicked off and on with the clap of his hands. Animal print couches, pillows, and rugs made the entire area look as though the complete cast of the Lion King had been slaughtered and scalped for upholstery. It was awful, and judging by the look on his partner's face, not at all appealing to women with an IQ over twelve.

"Oh my God," she said from a room down the hallway. Booth's head snapped around and he followed the sound of his partner's voice. She was standing in the middle of what the caveman bachelor considered a bedroom. Where there should have been a bed there was instead a circular elevated platform. It was canopied with deep red velvet curtains knotted together with zebra-patterned rope. The floor was covered in some bizarre sort of furry carpeting that vaguely resembled the character Fozzy from the Muppets. Booth experimentally clapped his hands in this room, both curious and terrified at what might spring into action.

At the sound of his hands a low hum began behind the velvet curtains. He and his partner cautiously approached and climbed the two steps up to the platform. She untied the zebra cord and they spread the curtains to peer inside. The bed had come alive, slowly rotating and vibrating.

"What the fuck?" Booth couldn't believe it. This guy was insane. In what world did women actually fall for this shit? He glanced over at his partner. She had that hazy look on her face that typically precedes a vomiting episode. She shook her head in mute confusion and turned around and walked back onto the ground floor of the bedroom. She stood in the doorway and turned to look back at him.

"Booth, I've got to get out of here. All this crap is making me nauseated. I'll wait for you in the car." Booth nodded and when he heard the front door click shut he clapped his hands again. The bed stopped in its rotation and the vicarious humming under his feet ended when the bed quieted. He shook his head in wonderment as he followed his partner back to the car.

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Later that night they walked into Booth's house bemoaning the paperwork they were behind on and the necessity of revisiting the bachelor pad from hell tomorrow to look more intensely for clues.

"That place was disturbing on so many levels," Booth shuddered as he shucked his jacket off and hung it up in the hall closet.

"I'll never understand why men think they need all that crap to get a woman into bed." Brennan shook her head in disbelief as she took off her own jacket and laid it over the nearest chair. They made their way into the kitchen, each holding a fully stuffed stack of folders and folios. They both plopped their stacks down on the kitchen table. Booth headed for the refrigerator and extracted two beers.

Their routine had become simple for cases like this. They'd do paperwork at either his place or hers, usually whichever house was stocked with beer or wine, they'd have food delivered around eight, work until ten, and the non-resident would then drive home. Odds were this would happen two or three nights a week, depending on the case. Tonight they had chosen Booth's house because last night they'd polished off the last of Brennan's beer. Life was not complicated when it came to work.

After about an hour of paperwork and two slices into a half-pepperoni, half-spinach and mushroom pizza, Booth looked up at his partner, "What does it really take, Bones?"

His partner didn't looked up from the stack of forms in front of her, but he could see her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement both at his words and those on the paper in front of her, "What are you talking about, Booth?" She sounded distracted, but he was bored, and he'd been wondering for some time now what exactly it took to get Temperance Brennan into bed. Not that he ever would…but it had crossed his mind.

"I'm talking about getting a woman into bed. What would it take? You're a woman, tell me how it works." He leaned back into the chair he was sitting in and tipped it back onto its two back legs and crossed his arms over his chest. He was taking a break from paperwork to do some investigating of a more personal variety.

Her head lifted from the white sheets now, she was looking at him with an air of disbelief, "Booth, I know for a fact that you've slept with your fair share of women. You don't need me to tell you how to get a woman into bed. Do you have that manila folder from the sheriff's department? I have completely forgotten the deputy's name and I need it." Her arm was extended across the table and her head was once again buried in the work in front of her.

"His name was Phillip Court. Seriously Bones, I want to know what you think it takes." She looked up at him again, feigning an air of exasperation and dropped her pen.

"Booth, I don't know what it takes for every woman to fall into a man's bed. That would be a total generalization of the female of the species, and I don't do generalizations. I only know, that for me, it doesn't take mood music and a vibrating bed. Okay? Now hand me that folder, there's other things in it that I need to complete this ridiculous sheet." She arched an eyebrow at him and stretched her arm back across the table. He shook his head and waved her hand away as he uncrossed his arms and lowered his chair back to all four legs. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on some requisition form and on top of her desired manila folder.

"Fine, Bones. Tell me what it would take for you to "fall into a man's bed." He was trying to play off his curiosity with a charm smile. With any luck she'd think he was just trying to annoy her instead of doing honest to God research. He needed ideas. For over four years he had been charming, protective, understanding, and made a general ass out of himself and nothing had worked. At this juncture he needed whatever help he could get in order to advance their relationship to the next level.

They were practically married anyway, except for the no kissing and no sex, and the complete unawareness of one of the participants in said 'marriage'. Nevertheless, over the last four months they'd developed a routine of eating at least two, if not all three meals together every day. Then there was the slow accumulation of her crap at his place and his crap at hers. They both kept a change of clothes and a small toiletry bag in the other's house in case cases got messy. She'd showered in his bathroom three times and he'd showered at hers about fifty. Some nights he even crashed on her couch. She had yet to do the same on his couch, but he was biding his time. One of these nights, she'd get tired, and he had a really soft blanket and a brand new pillow on standby to tempt her into staying over. As far as relationships went, this was one of the more committed ones he'd ever been in.

They were staring at each other now. She was hoping to stare him down and get back to work, but he had months of sexual frustration burning behind his eyes, and he would not be swayed. He stared right back and kept his grin in place. She rolled her eyes, leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest, unconsciously mimicking his earlier position, "Fine, Booth. What exactly do you want me to tell you?"

"I don't know, Bones. How about the moves you find most effective in persuading you to give in to your biological urges." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down as he said it and her face cracked into a crooked grin.

"Booth, like I said, I don't do generalizations. It would depend on the situation. I don't bring home random men from bars or anything, so those pickup lines wouldn't work, if that's what you mean."

"Not pickup lines, Bones. I'm talking about stuff that gets your motor running." At her look of confusion, he clarified, "The things that make you seriously entertain the thought of making love with a man."

"Oh, well…things that I need in order to be mentally and physically prepared for sexual intercourse. Hmmm. I guess all it really takes is a man that I know wants me and who I have confidence in to please me sexually." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Seriously, Bones? That's it? You do realize that you could walk to the nearest bar and find that, right? Hell, you could walk into any room and find half a dozen guys that want you."

"Yes, but could they fulfill my expectations? That's the real question, Booth. There are a lot of sexual cues and markers that are inherent in women that help them determine who would be a satisfactory sexual partner." He cocked his eyebrow in question, silently goading her into continuing, "For example, the symmetrical face concept I told you about before?" He nodded, "That's a mark of a good breeder. Some points that I often find myself observing are posture, hygiene, eye contact, manners, confidence, etc." As she listed them all she ticked them off with her fingers, "If I meet a man and he displays those traits, over a certain period of time, it is likely that I'll engage in a sexual relationship with him."

"So you're saying he has to be clean, polite, confident, man enough to look you in the eye, and that's what it takes? Hate to break it to you, Bones, but I'm all those things, and we aren't sleeping together." He said it playfully, but he was vaguely frustrated. If that's all it took, why hadn't she ever made a move on him?

"Yes, Booth, you are all of those things, but you forgot one thing."

"What's that?" She'd better not say he smelled.

"The man has to want me, and you don't want me. We're partners and friends, but I could tell from the first moment we met that I'm not your type. I know how much I annoy you sometimes, Booth. It's gotten better over the years, but the fact remains that we are two very different people." She leaned forward and picked her pen back up from where she had surrendered it earlier. Apparently, she thought their discussion was over. He wanted to groan in frustration. Goddamn it, did he have to spell everything out for this woman?

"What if I did?" She let out a sigh but didn't lift her face from her paperwork.

"What if you did, what?" She was scribbling something on the paper, and the fact that she wasn't looking at him emboldened him into barging forward.

"What if I did want you? What would that mean to you?" Her hand stopped moving, but she still didn't look up. It was silent in the kitchen, but inside his body there were thousands of sounds. The blood in his veins made a whooshing sound as it flooded his cheeks, his heart was pounding so hard against his ribs he was sure she could hear it across the table, and his mind was screaming, "Idiot!" so loud he felt like he should cover his ears.

Suddenly her pen started scribbling again, "Well, that's not something we have to worry about is it?" She looked up at him then, and she was grinning, but he could tell it was fake. There was something in her eyes. She almost looked sad, like she was begging him to stop this conversation. Like it hurt to talk about it. He knew she needed him to stop. She needed him to make all of this a joke. He didn't know why she needed it, but he could see it. So he did.

"Nope, not something we need to worry about, Bones. Can you hand me the green folder from Caroline Julian?" They both put their heads down and continued to work. Passing folders back and forth, munching on pizza, and pretending that everything was normal. But two hours later when Booth watched Brennan's headlights pull out of his driveway and closed the door and turned the latch, he knew that they had left normal, for better or for worse.


	2. Look Up

**I was bugging the hell out of me that this chapter was so jacked up. So I tweeked it a bit. Chapter Five, and eventually a conclusion, is coming. I swear.**

It was awkward. Not one of those awkwards that just screams in discomfort, but an awkward that quietly pokes at you as you slowly lose patience. It was the Kathy Griffin of awkward, as opposed to the Fran Drescher. Crappy and annoying, but it could be worse. He walked across the lab to Bones' office. She was sitting at her desk talking on the phone. She hung up just as he reached the doors and gave him a brief glance and nod before standing up and gathering her things.

"Sorry Booth. Hold on a sec and," her voice trailed off as she looked around her feet for something. "Where the hell? It was right here. I put it down right here." She walked from behind her desk now, still scanning every available surface.

"Bones, if you tell me what you're looking for, I could probably help you find it." I walked nearer to her now. Scanning the office for anything that looked pertinent.

"It's a file. It's green…" she dropped to her knees and bent over to look under the couch. Her butt was stuck up in the air as she rooted around underneath the furniture. Good God the woman had an ass. "I need it to…ahhh, here it is." She stood up, triumphantly holding the green folder and went back to her desk to pick up her purse, and off we went.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Something had to be done. This was ridiculous. He was thirty-something years old, had a son, even, and this was not high school. It was time to make a move, make his intentions known, and prepare to either be shot down and have done with it all, or be accepted and overjoyed. He should ask her out. Maybe not right this second, though. _Why not right this second?_ We're alone, in a car; there are no escape routes. _She could turn me down and then I'd be stuck sitting next to her for the next fifteen minutes in an even higher level of awkward. Oh, fuck it, I'm doing it._

"So, Bones, you got any plans tonight?" His eyes shifted over to her, and he tried not to grip the steering wheel too tightly.

"Not really, just work. Angela's been bothering me about some concert on Friday, so I'm trying to get things done so I'll be able to go with her. How about you?" She actually looked up from the photographs in her lap to look at him. _Great._ Just as the cloud of awkwardness was lifting, he was going to ask her out and bring it crashing down back over them. _Oh well._

"I was thinking you and I should go to dinner." Her shoulders did that "eh, that's fine" lift and she gave him a slight nod.

"Sure, the diner's always good." He shook his head and exhaled, frustrated at the fact he was actually going to have to clarify his terrifying mission statement.

"No, I meant somewhere else. For an actual dinner, with you and me. I can pick you up around eight, we'll talk about something other than homicide, there might be wine involved." His voice trailed off, and he resisted the urge to look at her. Rejection was easier to take if you weren't being looked directly in the eye. She was silent forever. In reality it was probably only six or seven seconds, but it felt endless. Her head dropped back down to the folder in her lap before she asked the question they were both afraid of.

"Are you talking about a date, Booth?" She feigned mere curiosity and indifference, but her voice had just barely shifted to a higher octave, and her hands were now clasped together in her lap with the slightest tinge of white around her knuckles. _Well, at least I'm not the only one feeling the pressure._

"Yes." He couldn't force anything but that simple affirmation out of his throat. He couldn't think of any words that would make her feel more at ease. He knew she was hoping he could make her feel better by labeling it something else. She was hoping he'd do what he always did, and soothe her nerves or her confusion, but he couldn't this time, wouldn't this time. This time there would be no sugar coating or tap-dancing, he wanted her to know beyond a doubt what she was rejecting if she turned him down. If I was going to be disappointed, I didn't want to look back and wonder if it was because they'd miscommunicated.

"Okay." Something burst open inside his chest, and he was faintly reminded of the glorious feeling of triumph after his first football win in high school. That feeling of immeasurable relief and elation, when something happens, that had been written off as impossible. The woman he'd been having really inappropriate thoughts about for years says okay to a date, and that heady rush of blood and the sudden fear that maybe you're making it all up and it's not really happening. Before she could change her mind he blurted out, "Great. I'll pick you up at your place at eight. We can go to the Citronelle." He risked glancing at her for a moment. She was still looking down at the papers in her lap. There had been a shocking lack of her piercing blue eye contact lately. He hoped that would be remedied by the end of the dinner.

"Okay, that sounds good. So, are we even sure that these remains are those of a murder victim?" She looked up at him then, one eyebrow arched, apparently she was just going to reserve eye contact for professional conversations.

"Uh yeah, they don't know Bones. That's why they need you. They've got skeletal remains, but no idea how they got there or who they used to be." As the last words left his mouth he turned the wheel of the SUV and brought it to a stop alongside several police cruisers, and two other cars. She was already setting aside the papers and hopping out of the truck, a determined look on her face, which was usually a foreboding sign of inter-departmental frustration.

He rushed around the front of the truck and lowered his voice to an almost whisper level, "Bones, let's play nice with the police officers and forensics team. We need them to _cooperate_ with us. They could be assets, this is a teeny tiny town." He plastered a smile on his face as they approached what appeared to be the man in charge of the scene. He was portly, with a mustache, and vaguely resembled Wilford Brimley.

"You must be the FBI. My name's Alton Hesper, I'm the sheriff here. Are you the Bone Lady? We got a real mess of what's left of a body down there."

"I'm Agent Seeley Booth, this is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Any ideas on who this might be. You missing any locals?" He grabbed his small notepad out of his coat pocket and prepared to take down anything pertinent.

"Nah, we got a pretty small headcount here in Haymarket. No locals missing. We got the highway patrol, the county sheriff's department, and now the FBI out here. As far as I'm concerned this scene is yours, I don't have the staff or the equipment to deal with this sort of thing. You'll just have to go ahead and get your ducks in a row with them over there." As he said it, he tilted his head toward the cluster of men in varying uniforms all converging around what Booth assumed to be the corpse. They all seemed to be bordering on the edges of pissed off.

He let out a sigh in response to the oncoming train wreck of testosterone and badges. Before he could get a word out, Bones was heading off across the muck. She ploughed through the men and headed straight at the corpse. This was going to be a long day.


	3. The Dress

His palms were sweating. He could feel the slow slip of his hands on the leather of the steering wheel. He found it metaphoric that the harder he tried to grab on and keep the car in control, the quicker he lost his grip. Should he be worried at the sudden poetic turn of his thoughts? Nevermind.

He let his eyes slip toward the passenger seat. There were a whole lot of legs over there. Inch after inch, foot after foot of creamy skin criss-crossed. They began in mystery, upper thighs hiding underneath a black skirt and they ended in mystery, feet enclosed in black high heels. Black, white, black. He forcibly tugged his gaze back to the road. Driving was not a good time to leer.

All in all dinner had gone well. By some miraculous intervention from Jesus, he had managed to get an incredibly short notice reservation at Citronelle. The food was good, the wine was effectively calming, and they had managed to fight off any awkward silences with pleasant conversation. Occasionally, he would remember that they were on a date and his stomach would tighten into what felt like a fist, but then he would look at her smiling across the table at him and he would slowly unclench.

He was driving her home now. He had no idea what to expect, so he tried to prepare himself for any and all possible events. She may try to say goodnight in the car, well he wouldn't stand for that one. A gentleman walked a lady to her door, but then, she may say goodnight at the door. She may ask him in for coffee. She may ask him _in_ for _sexy_ _coffee_. Those were the only possibilities he could think of at the moment, but he tried to prepare himself for whatever surprises the unorthodox doctor would have in store. He also had to keep reminding himself not to stare at her.

At the beginning of the evening, when she had opened the door, he had been sufficiently impressed. Her hair was pulled up and back and sort of twisted around the crown of her head in a rather mystifying manner. He decided it was pretty. Her high cheekbones and delicate neck exposed, it was nice. Then his eyes had briefly dropped down to her dress. The dress was not pretty. The dress was fucking hot. It had cap sleeves that covered her shoulders, but then it suddenly plunged. Really _plunged_. A slash of white skin against the slender black 'v' of the neckline. Black, white, black. He had used every shred of propriety and gentlemanly behavior to drag his eyes away from that damn 'v'. As he tried to pretend not to ogle her she mentioned something about her purse. He had thought to himself, "Oh good, she'll turn around and I can get a grip."

Then she turned around.

There's a feeling that washes over you when too many thoughts and emotions all collide in your brain at the same time. It's a tingle that starts at the tips of your extremities and then slithers into your muscles. It's very quickly accompanied by a flush of heat and, occasionally, there are involuntary muscle responses. For men, those responses usually rest in the pelvic region. At that moment, every muscle in his body moved toward her.

The dress had no back.

There was so much skin. It was everywhere. His hand reached up entirely of its own accord, his feet took an unplanned step toward her, and he couldn't be sure, but there may have been a tiny dollop of drool. Thank God she was turned around. He managed to rein himself in before he did anything really embarrassing, like groping her back in the open doorway of her apartment. By the time she turned back around he was again under control. As they walked through her door down to the car his hand automatically went to her back. He felt the slippery slide of her dress beneath his fingertips and the warm smoothness of her back under his palm and he tried to remember how to breathe.

Now, three hours later, the date was coming to a close, and he'd almost gotten used to the dress. And he'd also spent a significant portion of the evening analyzing the meaning of the dress. It was quite a dress, after all. It merited quite a bit of analysis. She had picked it out. She had worn it to go on a date. A date with him. That dress gave a man ideas. She must have known that. Of course she did, the dress had no back, a blind eunuch would have gotten ideas. Yeah, she knew. He wondered if for the first time in years, maybe their ideas would match up. Although, he had a feeling that his new tie and blue-green socks might not have had the same effect on her as her dress did on him, but a guy could hope.

He pulled the car to a stop in her parking garage. Her hybrid was parked two spots to his left. He cut the engine, and hopped out of the car. Before he could get to her door, she had already opened it and had one leg on the ground. He smiled ruefully to himself and shook his head. She threw him off his game, she had since the day they met. Then, he got distracted by her back again. There really was no getting used to all that perfect flesh just out there for the whole damn world to see. He sent up a silent prayer for some sort of coffee invitation.

As they walked down the hallway to her door they were quiet, but it was the same comfortable quiet that always fell between them when she was thinking and he was hoping. She pulled her key out of her purse and opened the door. She walked through it without a word, but left it open for him to follow her. Distantly, he heard her mention tea or coffee, but his heart had suddenly accelerated to a frenzied pounding. As he shut the door behind him he allowed himself a brief moment of panic before he let go of the handle.

"Booth?" His head jerked up to see her standing on the threshold to her kitchen with a silver tea kettle in hand.

"Yeah, sorry Bones. Umm, tea would be good, thanks." She gave him a quizzical look then turned back around to fill the kettle with water. He meandered in the direction of the kitchen and watched her move. She was at the sink, then the stove, then reaching for tea bags out of the cupboard, then reaching for two mugs. She had turned on the light over the sink, but left the overhead light off. There was enough light to see what she was doing, but there were still dark corners surrounding them. Her skin took on a golden hue, and this time, he didn't stop himself.

He took the two steps that closed the emptiness between them and pressed his palm onto the naked skin in the middle of her back. She stilled under his hand, but he could feel her vibrating, like a tuning fork, underneath it all.

"I like the dress, Bones." In the dim light he could make out her slight smile. He knew she had planned that dress.

"Thank you, Booth. It's new." She was looking at the kettle, the silvery puffs of steam that signaled the oncoming whistle. He felt her move ever so slightly, her body pressing back against his hand, and then she turned to face him, now wrapped in his arm that seemed to refuse to break contact with her back, her face glowing up at him in the dark kitchen. His other arm snaked around her to take the kettle off the stove and flip off the burner before it too joined his other hand on her bare back. He felt the muscles of her back shift beneath his palms as her hands slipped up to lightly grip his tie.

"I like your tie." His slight smile mirrored her own.

"Thank you, Bones. It's new." He felt the slight tug of her hands on his tie as she pulled his face toward hers. Their lips met. It was so soft at first it didn't even feel like a kiss, but then her pink tongue slipped out to touch his bottom lip, and suddenly it wasn't soft at all. It was wet. It was hot. It was really, really, good. She tasted like strawberries, and rosemary, and mint. She was earthy and fresh. Her mouth was warm and slick against his. Her tongue licked into his mouth and he pressed her long body against his. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and her hands had slid around his neck to grip in his hair.

He vaguely realized that they were moving. He wasn't sure of the mechanics of moving in an embrace this tight or fevered, but somehow they had shifted each other into the hallway. The blank walls of the dark corridor presented an exciting new opportunity, and he took advantage. Their bodies were totally aligned, his hands now gripping her hips and he tried his damnedest to imprint his body onto hers as he pressed her against the blank surface.

One hand slipped up her stomach to rest against the side of her breast, and he felt her shudder against his palm. He slipped his other hand up and then slowly brushed his thumbs over her nipples. He could feel them tighten under his attentive thumbs through the layer of her dress, the heat of her body radiating through the fabric. He shuddered at the thought of how warm she would be naked against him.

Her hands came back around to his chest and she unknotted his tie and dropped it on the floor of the hallway, then he felt her fingers begin to work on his buttons. One by one she made her way down his torso, then pulled his shirt out of his pants and undid the two buttons that had been hiding below his belt. She began to push the shirt off his shoulders, but she paused, and broke their kiss. He felt his stomach tighten at the thought that she might push him away or say this was too fast, but instead she reached for his hands and undid the buttons around his wrists before she shoved the shirt from his shoulders.

He reached around her back and found the tiny, and somewhat useless, zipper that began at the curve of her spine and trailed a few inches over her bottom. After finishing his hands went to her shoulders and began to peel the dress off of her. Oh God. She wasn't wearing a bra, he probably should have realized that when there was no back to the dress, but seeing her perfect round pink-tipped breasts made his vision blur for a moment. He ran the back of his knuckles over her puckered tips as he continued the downward descent of her dress. Finally, the dress lay in a pile at her feet and she kicked it away. He took a small step backward to look at her. She still had on a pair of dark green panties and her high heels.

She looked like dessert. Her hair had fallen down in their frantic pressing and pulling against the wall and there were dark chocolate ringlets around her face and shoulders. Her skin looked like vanilla ice cream and her breasts had cherries on top. He decided to start there. He tugged a cherry into his mouth and licked and sucked, listening to her breathing and moaning. Letting her noises guide his actions. He wanted to learn everything about her body and what it responded to. He moved to the other and repeated his actions.

His hands snaked into the back of her underwear. The soft skin of her ass was warm against his fingers and he squeezed slightly and pulled her hips flush against his. He could feel the heat of her again, and it made him dizzy. He lifted his head from her chest to her mouth and pulled up slightly on her bottom, hoping she'd get the hint. She did. She raised up on her toes and helped him boost her legs around his waist and latched her arms around his neck and he carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom.

She landed on the bed below him. Hot and alive and a moving thing underneath him. He worked his hands down and helped her wiggle her underwear down her legs and off of her completely. He pulled himself up and off of her to shuck his own pants and underwear, all the while staring at her naked body on the bed. Christ, she looked good.

He leaned back down to her and she pulled him to her until every inch of his skin was flush against hers. He shifted until he felt the wet heat of her entrance wash over him and then he broke their kiss to look her right in the eyes as he sank into her. Her mouth dropped open and so did his.

Jesus Christ she felt good. Her heat was everywhere. He felt her fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder blades. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make her presence felt. He started to surge in and out. The friction making his skin crackle and itch, and her hands running along his body was the only thing that relieved it.

The pressure built, and then, suddenly, he must have hit a really delicious spot inside her because her breath caught in a gasp and she arched in his arms. Her head tilting back on the pillow and her mouth curving in a kind of delirious and unconscious grin. He liked that reaction, so he endeavored to produce it again. And he did, each time her noises becoming louder and her reaction more fevered until finally she screamed out, "Booth!" and he felt her pulsing white hot around him and he was dragged under by her voice and the feel of her.


	4. Temperatures

**Hello friends! I'm sorry that it's been eons since I last updated. I've recently discovered that there is a little person growing inside of me, and my husband and I have been really busy bouncing back and forth between extreme joy and extreme panic. It's been a hectic couple of months. But come July, I'm going to be a Mommy! Look out world! Now that all the family has been informed and I've gotten used to the idea of seeing a doctor and being rubbed on my belly, I'm back to writing. **

**So here's the latest installment, and thank you to all the reviewers that have stuck by me. I can't tell you how grateful I am and how thrilling it was to read your reviews on the last chapter, even though I was sure you guys would just absolutely hate me for being gone so long. I'll be getting back in the flow of things here, so don't forget to drop me any ideas for what you'd like to see happen between Booth and Bones.**

There were a lot of questions: how do you conduct a romantic relationship with someone you work with? There was a reason partners were not allowed to date: one day your life could literally be in their hands, but they refuse to get out of the car because you argued about dry cleaning or something, and the next thing you know, somebody is shot. It sounded melodramatic in his head, but his job was sort of melodramatic.

And what about all these emotions? What the _hell_ was he supposed to do with them? Bones was his friend, his family, his partner, and now his lover. All that familiarity and trust created a lot of pressure to just run headlong into something serious and really permanent. You can always think you're 'in love' with someone from a distance. It's the up close and personal things that even best friends and partners don't usually see that can make love last a lifetime or break a heart.

Another problem was the concentration factor. For example, for the moment, he had absolutely no concentrating capability. Right now, he should be doing paperwork. He worked for the government, paperwork was like breathing for government employees, but instead, he was thinking about Bones and physically forcing his butt to stay behind his desk rather than jog out the door and drive to the Jeffersonian.

He'd always had the urge to spend time with Bones before, but now that there was a possibility that she might not drop kick him if his hand 'accidentally' brushed across her butt or maybe the outside curve of her breast...he shook his head against the thought. No, he would stay at his desk and do his paperwork. He looked up at the sound of a knock on his partially open door.

"Hey, Booth," Charlie ducked his head in. Booth's pulse kicked up a bit when he caught a glimpse of the case file in the agent's hand.

"Yeah?" Booth raised his eyebrows in expectation waved the man into his office. Charlie slapped the folder down in front of him on the desk and gave him a grim nod.

"You and the bone lady have a case." Booth was instantly charged with excitement for an excuse to see Bones again. Good God, what was wrong with him? Death is bad. He really needed to go to church…soon.

"Thanks Charlie. I'll head over there now." As he said the words he pushed back from his desk. The other agent nodded and left his office while Booth grabbed his suit coat and the case file and headed for the door.

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As his hand reached out to pull open the door to the Medico-Legal Lab he had a flash of panic that made him pause. What if she was different today? What if she tried overly hard to act totally normal and gave away to everyone in a lab coat what was going on between them? Maybe he should call and warn her before he just walked in. Maybe he should have her meet him at the site. Would that be easier? No, no, that would be weird. He always picked her up to go to a scene; if he asked her to meet him she'd think he was being distant. She would think that right? What was she thinking? His name being called from behind him made his head jerk around.

"Booth, hey man. You and Brennan got a case?" The blue eyes of the resident bug and slime guy snapped him back to reality. He and Bones had a case. A life had ended and it was their job to make sure that justice was meted out.

He nodded at Hodgins, "Yeah, I just came by to grab Bones so we can head out." As he said the words he pulled open the door and walked through. The lab always seemed just a few degrees cooler than everywhere else inside the Jeffersonian. He remembered how appropriate he used to think the temperature difference was when he had first met Bones. The first words that popped into his head when he introduced himself and shook her hand all those years ago were "ice queen."

He allowed himself a slight private smile at how much things had changed and as he raised his eyes to the platform he saw her. She was standing with her arms folded across her chest around some sort of folio and she was chatting with Angela, Cam, and the newest intern about something apparently unrelated to work, because they were all smiling. Angela was talking and gesturing with her hands and Bones was smiling and subtly shaking her head in comic disbelief.

Whatever he had thought when they first met, he knew now she was anything but an ice queen. She looked warm to him. A woman alive and vibrant amongst all the cold grey metal of the lab. Her hair shone despite the fluorescent lighting and it bounced and waved as she continued to shake her head at Angela's antics. Her laugh was low and he knew that if he were close enough he could feel the warmth of her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. Temperance Brennan was more than warm, she was hot.

He stepped up to the platform behind Hodgins, clearing his throat as the entomologist handed Cam some piece of paper. When Bones saw him her smile remained steady and her eyebrows raised, a silent preamble to her oncoming question.

"Booth, when did you get here?" He saw her eyes flicker down to his left hand where he held their new case file. Then he saw them dart to his tie. Today's tie had been a gift from her, and he could tell she remembered when her grin became more private as her eyes met his again.

"I just pulled up. We've got a case." Before he could even finish the second sentence she was nodding and striding toward him and he moved to walk along next to her.

"Okay. Can you give me a hand with my kit? Will I need my gumboots, do you think?" They were headed for her office, he had given a familiar nod of acknowledgement to everyone else on the platform before he had taken off behind Bones. They had waved him off silently. Well, this was certainly a lot less complicated than he had feared. Hell, even he couldn't tell that he'd had sex with the good doctor or not. And now they got to be alone in her office. His stomach did a random jumping-while-clenching maneuver at the thought of being alone with her. He dragged his focus back to the dead body that loomed in the future.

They walked into the quiet lull of her office. She must have been writing or something earlier in the day because her blinds were down and it felt a few degrees warmer in here than in the main floor of the lab. She must have had her door closed all morning. Well, he hoped she'd had a more successful morning of concentrating than him.

"You been writing this morning, Bones?" He was hauling her kit out of a small niche between a bookcase and some sort of skeleton display that dated back to God-only-knows-when. A glance over his shoulder as he asked the question permitted him a view of her bending over in her closet to yank out her gumboots and coveralls.

"I was trying to. I've been having trouble concentrating today." Hallelujah! He felt like singing, and possibly doing some sort of jig. She likes me! She really likes me!

"I haven't been very successful with the whole concentration thing today, either." They had both procured their respective items and were looking at each other from opposite sides of her office. Their faces reflected the other's sheepish smiles.

"Normally, I'm very good at compartmentalizing, but this seems to be a bit of a challenge." As she spoke she began taking measured steps in his direction across the room, and he mirrored her.

"Don't worry about it, Bones. It's just because it's new and we're unsure. One day, I'm sure, I'll be able to sit at my desk without thinking about kissing you. And then, after that, I won't be really excited about some poor lost soul found in a national forest just because it means I have an excuse to come see you. One day, I won't be thrilled to see you've drawn all the shades in your office and we're actually all alone for just a moment out of the day." At his last sentence they had met in the middle. Standing face to face, and his hand reached up to touch her hair just as hers lifted to press a gentle palm to his chest. As soon as she touched him, he realized that day would come in about eighty thousand years.

"One day, huh? Is today that day, Booth?" She teased him with a smile he knew no one else had ever seen from her before, and he knew no one else would ever see, because it was his and only his.

"Yeah, definitely not." His head dropped to hers and met her lips. It was a kiss that said things. It said, "Hello." It said, "I missed you." It said, "I want you." It said everything he wanted to say, and gave him all the answers to all the questions that were bouncing around in his mind. Suddenly, he was at ease, and he was sure of the rightness of this. He sighed into her mouth and gently licked into her. After several moments they pulled away. He gently touched her forehead with his lips, and almost as if they'd practiced the maneuver, they each took a step back from each other at the same time, smiled, nodded, and turned to walk back out into the world.


	5. Shift

**Well, some of you noticed that my last update wasn't so much an update as a fixer-upper. I fixed Chapter Two because it was bugging the hell out of me. So, if you'd like to go back and read the version of that with a consistent viewpoint and flow, clickety clickety! Thank you for all your congratulations about the babe. It's a boy! I have this really nifty room in my house now that used to be my sewing room and is now a minty green color with all this baby crap in it, and my sewing room has been condensed to fit into one teeny corner in my husband's study. Apparently sharing is involved when having a baby...pfft. Not a lot happens in this chapter, because I am kind of stuck as to where the hell I'm going with this, but fear not! I will triumph in the end!**

Being a man, he was often confronted with the complicated nature of his partnership with his partner. She was a woman, and therefore, was naturally inclined to confuse and occasionally confound him. If you threw in the fact that she was a genius, well, that lent itself to all sorts of tension and annoyance. And on top of all the brains and the lack of a Y chromosome, she was really really good looking. That was what did it, right there. Like the trifecta from hell. If one of those components had been taken away, he would have been fine. Smart good-looking guy…no problem. Good-looking woman with no brains…piece of cake. Ugly brainiac...he looked around the lab at all the peons that he would never notice in any sexual way. He was sure they were all genius in their own way, and several of them were women, but none of them could even come close to comparing to his Bones.

His eyes came to rest on her as she pointed and gestured at the skeleton in front of her then zoomed in on a particular area of a bone with some sort of camera and everyone started nodding and using big words that he had absolutely no desire to listen to. She was really really good looking. Fair skin, big blue eyes, that dark silky hair, long legs, and perfectly proportional breasts. He shook his head against the rising heat in his belly and shifted his weight onto his left leg. He dragged his gaze away from Bones and her perfect breasts and tried to think about something other than the way they felt in his hands, or in his mouth…

Maybe he should go wait in her office. She said she'd be done in just a few minutes. If he was going to spring a random hard-on he'd prefer to do it in a more private area than the platform. He caught Bones' eye and tilted his head toward her office. She gave him a small nod and held up her index finger to convey the near completion of her duties as a teacher and scientist.

He walked down the steps of the platform and strode into her office. He sat on the couch and propped his feet up on the table in front of him, his head falling back to rest on the back of the couch. Since he was alone now and no one was likely to walk in on him he closed his eyes and let thoughts of Bones and her perfect breasts wash over him.

"Are you asleep?" He jumped at the sound of her voice. How long had he been daydreaming?

"No, I was uh, just thinking." He quickly crossed his left leg over his right to hide his arousal and watched her as she moved around her office, collecting papers and her laptop so they could go home.

"Well, whatever you were thinking about must have been very stimulating." She glanced pointedly at his lap and had that crooked smile on her face. That smile usually indicated less-than-moral thoughts buzzing around that big brain of hers. He knew he should be embarrassed, but he couldn't seem to push aside his excitement long enough to muster a blush.

"Oh they were good thoughts, Bones. I was thinking about you." He stood up then, and she walked toward him with her bag over her shoulder and her keys in hand.

"Well, then, Agent Booth. Why don't we go home and you can share some of your thoughts with me over dinner." She smirked at him again and he followed half a step behind her as she sashayed out of her office. As they locked her office door behind them and made their way to the car he started picking out his favorite thoughts to share.

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Sweaty and satisfied seemed to be the theme of the evening. They lay there breathing deeply and staring up at the ceiling. His head lolled to one side and he looked at her. She glistened in the moonlight leaking through the window, the sheen of sweat on her skin matching his own. He watched her naked chest rise and fall with every quickened breath and against all laws of nature and man felt himself stir deep inside. It would be at least half an hour before that stirring could manifest itself physically in the lower portion of his body, but his fingers began to twitch and his mouth began to water. The rest of his body would just have to catch up later.

He rolled onto his side and dragged his knuckles down the side of her ribs down to her hip. He loved the way her body undulated. She moved even when she was still. Smooth and white and solid under his fingers like the warmest silk stretched over perfectly sculpted marble. He ducked his head down to hers and kissed her. There was a breathless quality to her response, but she was enthusiastic, her hand drifting to the nape of his neck and keeping him firmly attached to her mouth. Their tongues stroked against each other. Sucking and pulling, nibbling and licking. The kiss became wanton. Her body arching and trembling slightly, fingers clinging desperately to whatever piece of his naked body she could sink into. She rubbed her skin against his like a very sexy and heated cat, almost purring out her pleasure. He loved her like this, and he wanted to make her scream. His hand slipped between her legs, he felt all that warmth and heat as his fingers plucked at her clit.

She moaned into his mouth. Finally tearing away from his demanding lips long enough to groan up at the ceiling. He felt the increase in dampness at the apex of her thighs and plunged two fingers inside her. Her legs were restless on the bed. Her entire body was in motion. He felt a feral smile stretch across his face as he watched her helpless response to his fingers. To add fuel to her fire he latched his mouth to one of her nipples. One of the absolutely fantastic bits of knowledge he had picked up about Bones was that she had extremely sensitive nipples. She let out a noise that was somewhere between a scream and a growl as he lathed her with his tongue and then sucked the perfect pearl of her breast into his mouth.

She was writhing beneath his hands and his mouth. He couldn't get enough of her reaction to him. She never held back, as honest in bed as she was out of it. He lifted his head from her breast to look at her face, he knew she was close to coming again, so he added a third finger to her center and curled against that spot inside her that made her eyes shoot open wide and her mouth drop open in a gasp. With one final lick of her nipple, she was gone, a keening cry tumbling out of her mouth and her hips arching toward the ceiling in what he considered to be a remarkable display of flexibility.

When she finally came back down to earth she locked her eyes on his.

"That was unexpected, Agent Booth." She had a lazy smile on her face. And he couldn't help but grin back at her, more than a little proud of the fact that he'd made her come at least three times in the past hour.

"I like watching you move, Bones. Your skin feels good against mine." She smirked at that and her eyebrows raised slightly.

"You didn't have to go through all that just to feel my skin on yours," as she said it she rolled so that she was laid on top of him, her breasts pressed just under his ribcage and her head resting on his chest, "See? All of me pressed against all of you." He could feel her smile pressed against his chest. He brought his arms around her torso and rested them across her back.

"Yeah, but I like the noises you make when you come. They're sexy as hell, Bones." She lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest and looked at him. He knew in about five minutes he could and would be hard again, and judging by the look on her face, Bones was thinking the same thing.

"I like your noises too, Booth. Let's see what sounds I can get out of you in the next few minutes, shall we?" She gave him a grin, her mouth looked like the devil's candy as she slowly ran her tongue across her lips and began to kiss her way down his chest to his stomach, to his….

"Oh good God."


	6. Flirt

**I'm on a roll babes. HUGE BIG FAT PREGNANT LADY SHOUT OUT TO MUMRULZ. Not gonna lie to you kids, she's the only reason you got a chapter today. Send her thanks with gifts of candy and chiseled male dancers. Rarr.**

Booth was bored. This was the most boring conversation he could remember ever taking place in his office. He'd never been fond of Agent Peter Black. He couldn't really put his finger on why, but it probably had something to do with the fact that he was the most boring man on earth. Objectively, the two had a lot in common. They'd both been in the army, though Black had never reached a rank equivalent to his own, nor had he been in the Special Forces. They were both single fathers, Black had a daughter a few years older than Parker, he'd been divorced for about five years now. Black was also the same age as Booth, but Booth knew for a fact that the man didn't take near as good care of his body as Booth did.

Anyone could see that good old Pete was starting to soften around the edges. A hint of a belly puffed over his belt, tinges of gray around his temples, and he somehow always seemed tired. Booth tried to focus his attention back on the conversation, but the man was just going on and on. It reminded him of being forced to listen to his great aunt Bea's stories during the holidays, when all he really wanted to do was play with his cousins or steal a plate of cookies from the dessert table.

Speaking of cookies, his eyes slid to the clock on his desk. Bones should be here any minute to go to lunch at the diner. He hoped she'd be on time. Maybe she'd do that typical Bones thing of unintentionally pissing off the person in his office so bad that he'd never come back. She's handy for the best stuff. He bit back the smile that he could feel trying to spread its way across his face at the thought of her mentioning something about Black's divorced status or growing paunch.

Speak of the devil, he saw her make her way through the bullpen and toward his office. She slowed when she realized that someone was in his office, giving him a look and a hand signal that indicated her willingness to wait outside his office. He shook his head slightly and rose to his feet, clearing his throat in a not-so-subtle attempt to interrupt Black's verbal diarrhea.

"Agent Black, I don't know if you've ever met my partner. This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bones, I've mentioned Agent Black to you before, I believe. He helped with some of the legwork on Epps' case." He remembered very clearly referring to Agent Black as an prematurely aging incompetent. He couldn't believe he was actually hoping for her to remember and insult his coworkers now. She surprised his though, as usual.

"Oh yes, Agent Black. Booth has told me wonderful things about you." No he had not "It's nice to put a face to the name I've heard so much about." No it was not. She shook his hand and gave him a smile Booth could tell was forced. He could do nothing but stand there, mouth slightly agape, as his partner acted graciously. What the hell was going on?

"Dr. Brennan, it's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you as well. You're even lovelier than I remember." Ok, seriously, what the hell was going on? Bones was being polite, smiling even, and Black was looking at her…well he was looking like he was about to get his ass kicked in the middle of the Hoover building if he didn't let go of Bones' hand in about two seconds.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but Booth and I have a lot of paperwork to go over before we meet with Ms. Julian tomorrow, and I was hoping to steal him away. That is, if what you two are discussing isn't a matter of national security?" Was she being flirty? Booth could feel his mouth still hanging open and he looked with shock into her big blue eyes as she smiled at him with a questioning eyebrow raised.

"Uh, no. We were shooting the breeze. Peter, I'll see you later. It was nice catching up." He grabbed the other agent's hand in what he hoped came across as an overly firm handshake.

"Yeah, Booth. We'll have to go get a beer sometime." The ass didn't even look at Booth as he said it, he was still staring fixedly at his partner. Then the ass grabbed her hand again. Didn't he just get done shaking her hand not ten seconds ago? What the hell?

"Dr. Brennan, I look forward to seeing you around the Hoover again." Did he just wink at Bones? Enough was enough. He cleared his throat again, grabbed his coat from where it hung on the back of his chair and placed a firm hand on the back of Bones' back and fairly shoved her out of the office.

"Come on, Bones. We need to get a move on. Later, Pete." She went ahead of him with shockingly little resistance. They were silent all the way down to the truck, he was trying to sort through the last five minutes objectively, but a cloud of green jealousy kept falling over the logical part of his brain. She didn't seem bothered by the situation, or even concerned at his silence.

"Alright. What the hell was that? Were you flirting with him? Do you know each other? Jesus, you two didn't date did you?" She looked concerned now. He could feel his heart rate increase as a panic settled over him.

"No, we did not date. And, yes, I was flirting. Only a little, though." She looked back out the window. As though that would clear everything up. He shook his head, wondering if he was missing something totally obvious.

"And…why were you flirting, even just a little. Am I wrong in thinking that we are in a relationship that extends beyond our partnership? Are you dating people other than men?" He was son confused and more than a little pissed off. But suddenly the main emotion overriding all of the others was fear. Fear that he had lost her somewhere along the way, that everything he had thought was so perfect was suddenly so completely wrong. Oh God.

"I was thinking that if your coworkers believed that I was flirting with them, it would eradicate any suspicions that they had about the two of us being romantically involved. Particularly if I did it in front of you. Are you okay? You look ill." Oh thank God. So she was thinking of this as cover. But still, she should probably never do that again. If only because it gave him the symptoms of a stroke.

"Oh, right. Well, we'll come up with some other way to keep us under wraps. You don't need to be fake nice and smiley to the men in my department. They might get the wrong idea, and then I'd have to shoot them. And that just leads to too much paperwork." He could joke about this. He was fine. They were fine. He had her. She wasn't going anywhere. Thank God.

He could feel her looking at him now. She was staring, in fact. He briefly turned his head from the road to look at her, "What?"

"Are you jealous, Booth?" She seemed intrigued by the idea. He quickly turned his face back to the windshield. He felt his cheeks get a little warm, and hoped to hell she couldn't see the blush he felt creeping across his face.

"Jealous is the wrong word. It's more that I'm concerned for your reputation. I wouldn't want the men in the building saying things about you that would be…demeaning, or rude, or whatever, because, again, I'd have to shoot them and all that paperwork. Anyway, you know what I mean. I'm not jealous." He kept his eyes square on the road. In another block they'd be at the diner and this conversation would be over. He risked a sideways glance at her. She was still looking at him, but he could tell she wasn't really seeing him anymore. She was in thinking mode. He waited for her to say something.

"I won't flirt with any of your coworkers anymore. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable." Her head turned back to look through the window. He was surprised. That had not been the reaction he'd expected.

"You don't have to apologize, Bones. No harm done." He felt guilty. He didn't want to make her feel bad.

"I'm apologizing to you because I know how I would feel if I had to watch you flirt with a woman. Even if I knew it was meaningless or shallow, it would make me feel…unpleasant. I don't want to make you feel that way." She gave a little shrug of her shoulders. He pulled into a parking spot at the diner, and before he cut the engine he turned in his seat to look her full in the eye.

"Bones, you're right, I was jealous. To be honest, I feel a whole lot of things around you. Most of which you would probably attribute to my 'alpha male-ness' or whatever. But don't ever think that you make me feel unpleasant. I love…the way I feel with you. You're my friend, my partner, and now you're something more. Let's just do whatever we feel and whatever makes us happy and, hopefully, we can keep this to ourselves for a while. But don't be someone you're not just to cover my ass. Okay?" He smiled at her. She smiled back.

She leaned forward and he met her halfway across the console. Her lips were warm and slippery from whatever chapstick or lip gloss she had on. His mouth slid across hers and he felt her tongue press against his lips and then all he could taste was her. He inhaled through his nose and all he could smell was her. She was everywhere, and he loved her everywhere. He loved her. And soon, he would tell her.


	7. Differences

**This chapter brought to you by Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" and a jar of kosher pickles. Delicious.**

As they sat in Sweets' office, Booth knew something was about to go very wrong. It was silent. That silence that Bones was comfortable with and Sweets tolerated, but really drove Booth nuts. His leg was bouncing up and down, and he was curious if the young doctor could tell there was something new going on between himself and Bones.

He glanced over at his partner. She looked calm. She looked really pretty today too. Not hot, or beautiful, but pretty. She was wearing that lavender blouse that made her cheeks look flushed pink and her blue eyes even bluer and bigger. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her lips were shiny from the Carmex she had rubbed on in the car. He looked back down at his socks and wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to have known her when she was young.

She probably wouldn't have given him the time of day. Apparently, she hadn't given anyone the time of day back then. She claimed to be awkward and shy, totally focused on her studies, with no time for boys or even friends. He felt the small smirk on his face. He would have forced his way in. He would have made her make time for him, just like he had all those years ago when they started working together. He half-chuckled to himself, and suddenly, Sweets was all over him.

"What are you thinking about, Agent Booth?" The question startled him. Sweets usually wasn't that direct.

"High school, actually." It wasn't a lie. Just a really non-descript truth.

"Ahh, those must be fond memories for you." The young doctor raised his eyebrows expectantly. He was still sort of irked that after everything he had shared with Sweets that the kid still saw him as the golden boy jock of his high school. Even jocks had depth, goddamn it.

"I wasn't really thinking about my high school experience Sweets, although, yes, for the most part, it was fine. I was thinking about hers." He inclined his head to indicate his partner. She looked at him, surprised. He wasn't sure if she was surprised that he was thinking about her past, or if she was shocked that he shared that with Sweets.

"Why?" Bones voice sort of echoed across the room, and belatedly Booth realized that he should have kept his mouth shut, because everything that was going to come out of it in response was awkward and private. But, it was too late to be evasive now.

"Your shirt." Sweets and Bones were regarding him as though he were crazy. Not all that surprising given their location, "Your shirt makes you look younger than you are. Which made me think of what you were like when you were younger, which made me wonder at what it would have been like to have known you then." He'd said it all, so he hoped they'd stop staring at him as though he were challenged. He shifted in his seat. He wondered what Sweets thought this all meant. Had his thoughts been too romantic? Had he just ruined everything?

"That's a very interesting scenario, Agent Booth. What do you think it would have been like if you two were aware of each other at a different period of your life?" Sweets leveled his attention at Bones. Booth was curious what she would say. He turned his body toward her and leaned back onto the arm of the sofa they were sharing so he could focus his undivided attention on his partner. He noted, with a small amount of satisfaction that she seemed at a loss for words.

"Well, I'm sure that while Booth had a very active social life in his teenage years, I did not. My parents disappeared when I was sixteen, and the constant shifting between foster homes and schools made forming relationships with my peers very difficult. However, even before my parents left, I wasn't a very social creature. I was too awkward for sports, too quiet for clubs, and too ugly for boys." Booth felt his eyebrows knit together in a frustrated kind of annoyance when the word 'ugly' left his partner's mouth.

"Hey now, Bones. I've seen pictures of you when you were younger. You haven't had even close to what I would call an ugly phase." He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much that she had thought she was ugly, but it did. No one could ever look at Bones and think she was anything less than lovely, and it wasn't because of how she did her hair or her makeup, or even the clothes she wore. Her beauty was her skin and her eyes, and her bones, and that long white neck. Her beauty was natural and inherent; it wasn't something she had needed to learn how to coax out of herself by practicing with mascara or push-up bras.

"Thank you, Booth. But, it is unlikely that you and I would have had anything to do with one another back then. You were popular and athletic, and I was practically the antithesis of that persona." She gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"That's not all that matters for two people to get along and be friends." He was frustrated, but he wasn't sure why.

"It is in high school." Sweets commented. He saw Bones' small nod of agreement. That bothered him more than it should.

"I still think we would have found each other." He was resolute, but there was still something niggling at him and he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Well, luckily, Agent Booth, we are all adults now." Booth raised his eyebrow in mockery at Sweets proclaiming to be an adult, but the doctor forged ahead, "However, I'd like to talk about what the both of you believe holds you together as partners now. If in high school it required similar friends, comparable good looks, popularity, etc. What is it that now holds you together? What has changed us through maturity?" He looked back and forth between the two partners.

"Booth and I work well together because we have the same goals." Bones was resolute in her response. Booth realized that he was waiting for her to continue, but she wasn't going to. It was his turn, and he was stumped.

"Well, I guess we're kind of macaroni and cheese. Complements, like you said before." He felt stupid falling back on something Sweets himself had said so many meeting ago. He was afraid of where this conversation was going, but he still couldn't figure out why.

"Good, okay. Let's shift a little, and instead of talking about what brings you together, let's focus on what you've overcome to stay together." Bones looked as puzzled as Booth felt.

"Are you referring to our near-death experiences?" Bones looked really uncomfortable asking the question. She obviously wanted to avoid thinking about all that pain and fear as much as Booth did.

"No, Dr. Brennan. I'm thinking more of what you've had to learn to accept in your partnership. What you've learned are the boundaries or the lines you cannot cross." The kid was gesturing with his hands. At the mention of lines Booth tensed. What if the little twerp knew? How could he know? They'd been so careful. Maybe if he hit him hard enough he'd get amnesia.

"Umm, okay. I've learned talking about sex in front of Booth, is generally, not a good idea." That drew his attention. She made him sound like a prude. He was not a prude. They'd talked about that. Hell, he'd proved that the other night. They'd had sex like three times. He had _done_ stuff. He cleared his throat against the memory of her writhing body underneath his hands. Oh yeah, no way did she still think he was a prude. She must just be putting stuff out there for Sweets' satisfaction.

"I also have tried to refrain from discussing topics like religion, love, marriage, or children." Booth was starting to feel that frustrated nervousness reaching a crescendo inside him.

"That's quite a list of taboo topics Dr. Brennan. Are you at all frustrated by that?" Booth shifted in his seat again, he was trying not to say anything, but Sweets was right. That was a lot of stuff that they had vastly different opinions on.

"I wouldn't use the term frustrating, but I am very aware that Booth and I are two very different people." Just as Booth was about to respond to that, a timer on Sweets' desk went off.

"I'm sorry, but I have a very full appointment schedule today, so we'll have to continue this in our next session. I suggest that both of you think about your differences as well as your similarities, and analyze the process by which you reconcile the two." Everyone stood up. Booth didn't feel the customary relief at leaving the shrink's office as he usually did.

The walk to the car was silent. They had agreed to eat lunch after their session today. For the first time in his life, Booth didn't feel much like eating. As they drove to the diner he felt maybe he should apologize, but he wasn't sure what he would be apologizing for.

"Bones, you don't really have to avoid certain topics with me. I know that we don't always agree on stuff, but that doesn't mean we can't talk about stuff."

"I know that you think we talk about stuff Booth, but it always ends up being a fight with no resolution. It's too tiring, so I just don't bring it up." That felt like a slap in the face. He'd always considered himself a reasonably accepting and tolerant guy. What was she saying? His stomach was actually starting to hurt now.

"What do you mean? Like I preach at you? Do I hurt your feelings?" He could only look at her for a second or two at a time because he was driving, and couldn't really get a feel for the look on her face.

"It's not entirely your fault Booth. We're both stubborn people, and those subjects are touchy amongst all people, anyway. You have your beliefs and I have my facts, and I'm afraid sometimes those two can't be reconciled." She sounded depressed.

"Why do you sound depressed?" Why did he sound nervous?

"I'm starting to realize that there are things you want out of a relationship, things like marriage and children, that I'm unprepared or unwilling to give you. It depresses me to think about the friction that those particular differences might cause. Those are the sorts of things that spell doom for a lot of relationships, Booth." She let her head drop back to thump against the headrest. This was not good. He put on his turn signal and pulled into the first parking lot he could find. It was a grocery store. He needed to see her face. He needed her to help him.

"Look, Bones. We've known each other a long time. Been through more catastrophe and drama than most people could ever imagine. I know how you feel about having a child, and while that is something that I would love to experience again, well, I've got Parker, and that will always be enough for me. I would still be with you if there were something physically preventing you from having a baby; therefore it stands to reason that I would be accepting of your beliefs on the matter too. But you can't hold it against me if I hold on to the hope that maybe you'll change your mind one day." He smirked at her then. Her head lolled to the side to look him in the eye and she returned his half-grin.

"What about marriage?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, what about marriage? Can I ask you what offends you about it so much?" She sighed, as though preparing herself for something unpleasant.

"It's archaic. It's demeaning. You know all this, Booth. I've said it a million times." Her hands dropped from mid-air, where they'd been gesturing to her lap.

"Okay, do you think it would be that way with me? Do you think I'd think less of you when I made you my wife? Do you think I'd expect a dowry and ownership over you?" He was hoping she answered the right way; otherwise this really would turn into a fight.

"No, of course not." She looked sincere.

"Then marrying me wouldn't be so bad. I know you don't like all the pomp and ceremony, but what if I told you that was all just stupid crap that I didn't care about. What if I told you it was about the commitment and a lifetime of loving each other, and not the wedding?" He was nervous now. He realized that he'd just put a whole lot of cards on the table. He was acutely aware that they were now traveling at a speed that might make her jump ship. He held his breath and prayed.

"Then, yes, I suppose I could handle marrying you. You're not asking right now are you?" She looked apprehensive, but gave no indication that she might jump out of the car and run away, so he let out his breath.

"Not yet, Bones." He smiled at her then, and she smiled back. Crisis averted. "Now about this whole 'not talking about sex' thing. You can talk dirty to me anytime you damn well please. The only reason I didn't want to talk about it before is because I was not allowing myself to picture you that way. Now I picture you that way pretty much every second, so feel free to contribute to my daydreams." He was leaning toward her now. She smirked at him and licked her lips in anticipation of the kiss he was about to give her. His mouth moved over hers and they necked in the front seat of the truck for a good ten minutes before his stomach let out a growl.

She laughed into his mouth and leaned back into the passenger seat, "Alright, Booth. We've got all this pretty much sorted out. Let's go eat."

"Yes ma'am." He put the car in reverse and then pulled back into traffic. He headed toward their old familiar lunch spot with a new exciting outlook.


	8. Feel Better

It was a normal Wednesday. Not particularly great, but nothing terrible had happened, except for the murdered guy on the table in front of him. They'd woken up together this morning, stood next to each other while brushing their teeth, sat across the kitchen table and eaten their respective bagels, then drove to work, he to the Hoover, and she to the Jeffersonian. They'd eaten lunch separately, but then Hodgins had called the team together with some new information, so Booth had headed to the Jeffersonian just before heading home for the day. The whole team was standing on the platform listening to a particulate analysis having something to do with the victim's clothing. Hodgins was using words he almost understood and Bones was standing next to him nodding.

But then Russ walked in.

It was like the world was suddenly akimbo. Russ was not supposed be here. He should be at home in another city with Amy and the girls. He should be working at the Eddie's Lube and Tire in blue grease-stained coveralls with his name in red thread placed just above his heart. He wasn't supposed to be standing in the middle of the lab. He wasn't supposed to look devastated.

But he was there, and everything that wasn't supposed to be, suddenly was.

"Tempe." That was all he said, and she was moving toward him.

Temperance walked immediately off of the platform and Booth followed directly behind her. No one said a word. There wasn't anything anyone could say really. There were too many possibilities of disaster to issue any words of condolence.

Both the Brennans and Booth stopped in the middle of Bones' office. Booth stood where he could see both their faces, but was only a step away from her. He noticed for the first time that, despite the difference in color, the siblings had the same eyes. Russ' were pained and Temperance's were confused.

"What is it, Russ? What's going on?" Her arms were folded across her chest. Her jaw was set, like whatever he told her she could and would fix. She would refuse to let herself be disappointed.

"Tempe, it's Dad." He took a deep breath. "He passed away some time last night. I drove to his house this morning to pick him up for breakfast, and it looked like he went to bed last night and just didn't wake up. The doctor said it was an aneurysm." Russ' eyes were shining with tears. His voice cracked on the last few words, and Booth felt for the guy, he really did, but all he cared about at that moment was Bones.

She was stood there. Her arms were now pressed tightly across her chest, her eyes wider than he'd ever seen them and swimming with unshed tears. Booth watched the first salty droplet slide down. It was like slow motion as it rolled down her cheek, curving around her mouth and pausing to drip from the right side of her chin. He waited for her to say something. He waited for her to give him a clue how to help.

He could almost hear the seconds tick by, her eyes like a frightened child's. At last, her head shook as if giving some unseen entity a private refusal, more tears beginning to cascade down her cheeks.

"That's not fair." When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, and Booth's heart broke. Then, for no logical or apparent reason, he was angry at every saint he had ever prayed to or lit a candle in front of, angry at God and his infinite disinterest. He was angry because she was right. It wasn't fair. She did everything right. She had worked hard her whole life, she had been good to people, she had brought others joy at her own expense, she had withstood trial after trial and hurt after hurt, she had helped all those poor lost souls find their way to peace, and this is what she got in return? It wasn't fair, goddamn it.

He stomped down his anger and went to her. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her tight coil of grief slowly come undone within his arms. He heard her choking sob, but he more felt it on his chest, through his chest. He rubbed his jaw against her hair, then, he looked over her shoulder to her brother. Russ was standing, barely. His hand pressed over his mouth in an attempt not to blubber.

Booth managed, miraculously, to catch Russ' eye and wave him over. Transferring Temperance from one set of arms to another. It reminded him of shifting a sleeping Parker from the car to his bed. The slow even shift in an attempt not to jostle, to maintain a stable environment and let the sleeping boy be.

The siblings clung to each other. He was grateful for at least this. At least she got to keep Russ. And him. He would always be there. She would always have Russ, and him.

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He had driven them back to Bones' apartment. They reminded him of zombies. They had been silent the whole time in the car. Bones had sat in the backseat next to Russ holding hands across the middle seat and staring out the window. Both of them done crying, and the numbness of grief settling over them.

Booth unlocked Bones' apartment and they walked in. They all sat at the kitchen table, silent, unsure where to go from here. It was Russ who spoke first.

"I'm gonna head home here in a minute, Tempe. Amy and I will take care of all the planning for the funeral." Temperance nodded.

"I've got the plot next to Mom's set aside for Dad. I'll get you the number of the cemetery." Now Russ nodded. "Do you want to stay the night, Russ? Head home in the morning? You've done a lot of driving today already." Russ sighed, Booth could see the tired lines around his eyes, but knew he would say no.

"Thanks, but I need to get back to Amy and the girls. We need to start getting things ready for Dad, and the drive will be just as long tomorrow morning. You've got Booth here, though. So, you'll be okay, right? Not alone?" His eyes were on Booth now. It struck Booth then that Russ must have been as lonely as Bones all those years before their father came back to them. Not as beat up as Bones, but definitely lonely. Booth nodded at him.

"I'm not going anywhere." Russ looked grateful, and began his involuntary nodding again.

"Good. Okay." He started to stand then, and Bones followed him to the door. Booth let them go, giving them some privacy. He didn't know what was said in the way of goodbye, but Bones looked a little less lost when she came back to sit next to him at the table.

He dropped an arm around her shoulders and their bodies leaned into each other across the space between their chairs. After a minute she rose briefly out of her chair to straddle his lap. Her face pressed into his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his neck. He rubbed up and down her back, trying to comfort her. Unsure of what to say or do, but knowing that whatever she asked he would do without question.

He felt the wetness of her silent tears soak through his shirt before he realized that she was crying. He held her tighter, feeling her breath expand and contract underneath his hands.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I'm so sorry." She made a noise then. A dry sob that made his gut clench. Her legs tightened around his hips and her arms clung to him powerfully. He stood then, her body latched to his, his arms banded around her body. He walked down the hall to the bedroom. When he stopped walking her legs slowly released his hips and connected with the floor.

He let go of her then, and began to work her jacket off her shoulders and down her arms. He bent down in front of her to unzip the brown leather boots that covered her jeans up to the knee. Once shod of the boots, Booth unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them down her legs. He felt her hand go to his shoulder to keep her balance as she stepped out of the pool of denim. He left her panties on and then stood back in front of her. He caught the hem of her green sweater, she mutely lifted her arms and he pulled the garment up and over her head. He quickly unsnapped her bra. He gathered her jeans in his hands and threw all the clothes in the hamper. He led her to the bed then, pulling the covers up for her to slide in.

When she was settled he bent over her to kiss her forehead and as he pulled back she lifted her hand to rest on his shoulder.

"Booth, would you…" Her words trailed off. Booth wasn't sure what she wanted. He wasn't going to leave, but he thought maybe she'd want to be alone for a little while. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks had red splotches from her tears. He had been planning to go sit in the living room, maybe call Angela and the team and tell them what was going on. Instead, he sat down next to her on the bed, his hand resting at the side of her face. Even red and splotchy, she looked beautiful.

"What do you need me to do, Bones?" He saw her bite her lip, then she leaned up to sit, her face inches from his, the sheet that she had been wrapped in dropped down to reveal her bare breasts. He closed his eyes against the involuntary surge of want that bubbled up inside him whenever she was this close, or this bare, in front of him. He wanted to be sympathetic and sensitive, but his damn hormones, his long-tempered desire, never in complete control around her.

He felt her warm breath fan across his face, and then felt her lips feather-light against his. He leaned back after a moment, looking in her eyes. Unsure if this was really what she needed or wanted.

"Bones, I…" She shook her head and pressed her mouth to his again. She kissed him hard, her tongue slipping into his mouth. He groaned against her lips, wishing he were one of those men that could say no to her, even for her own good. But he wasn't.

"Booth, I…I need you to make me feel better." She sucked his lower lip in between her own, her hands working their way down the buttons of his shirt. He helped her tug past his wrists and it was tossed onto the floor. She started tugging on his belt while Booth toed off his shoes. He lifted his hips and shucked his pants, yanking his socks off at the same time.

Before he could lay down next to her, she crawled in his lap, like she had in the kitchen, but on her knees, hovering over his lap. She reached between them and ran her cool hand along his erection. He shuddered under her light touch. He lifted his hands to the sides of her face, pushing her hair back and looking her straight in the eye. She was ready then, her thighs flexing on either side of his hips as she slowly brought herself down, sheathing him in her wet heat. Their eyes both fluttered shut at the sensation.

He dragged his eyes open again, and she was right there with him, looking in his eyes as she rocked in his lap. They kissed again, their tongues slowly slipping inside each other's mouths. As they broke apart for air, their faces hovered millimeters away. He could feel her sweet breath on his face. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand pressed on her lower back helping her rock against him, the other at the nape of her neck. Her hair tangled through his fingers.

They rocked and rocked, the heat and the itch crackling along Booth's skin, pulsing in his veins. His hands slicked along Bones' spine. Their breaths became deeper and more labored. She began to vary her movements. A desperate moan slipping from her mouth and she began to circle her hips. The new sensation making his eyes roll back in his head. Every inch of her was so hot he thought they might catch fire. The delicious friction was pulling him under. He forced his eyes to focus on her face. She was lost. Her head tossed back and the gasping breaths she heaved caused her long white throat to shudder.

He knew she needed just a bit more and she'd be gone. He ran his hands up her smooth back and gripped her shoulders. He tugged lightly, hoping she'd understand his meaning. She did and allowed her body to lay back, almost completely perpendicular to him. He then gathered all the strength he had left and thrust hard into her while pulling down on her shoulders. They smashed into each other, every inch of him coming into contact with every inch of her.

The third crash brought her screaming to the edge. Her convulsions brought him across the finish line with her. She almost slid off his lap and over the edge of the bed, but Booth caught her in time and pulled her back up to press against his torso.

They sat like that, trying to get their breathing under control. He laid back, her chest still pressed against his. He smoothed her hair, his hands drifting up and down her back. She wasn't crying anymore, but he could tell she was thinking about it.

"You okay, Bones?" He knew she wasn't.

"No, but I will be. You're staying, right?" She sounded so scared.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise." She nodded against his chest. He hoped she was convinced, but he didn't mind the idea of sticking around forever to prove his point.

"Booth?" Her voice was getting heavy with exhaustion, and her body was slackening on top of his.

"Yeah, Bones."

"I love you." His breath sort of rushed out of him then and the hands that had been lazily stroking up and down her back stopped in their tracks, pressing into her skin in an attempt to stop the falling sensation that had overtaken his brain. In the hours he had spent agonizing over how he would tell her he loved her, it had never once occurred to him that it might be in response to her saying it first.

He belatedly realized that he hadn't replied and all that tired ease that he had felt seep into her body was now tightening on top of him. He pried his fingers loose from her back and tilted his head down to look her in the eye.

"I love you too, Bones." She gave him a smile and a small nod. Then rolled off of his chest to lay on her side, facing him.

"I can't believe my dad's really gone. Logically, I knew that this would happen one day. He's older, his body has been through a lot of trauma, but somehow, I thought…" her voice trailed off. The sentimentality of an orphaned child ringing out through the bedroom. Booth knew what it was like to love someone so irrationally that you couldn't picture anything ever breaking them. That was how he loved her. Nothing could ever break Bones, and the world had been trying for years. He knew her grief was being outweighed by her big brain's confusion.

He pushed her hair off her face, kissed her nose, and said, "Unfortunately, dads aren't always the superheroes we hope they are." He braced himself for the inevitable eye roll, but it didn't come. Instead, she bit her lip, looking more like the shy little girl he'd never met before than he had ever imagined.

"Do you think he knew?" Her big blue eyes were fixed on him.

"Knew what?"

"That I loved him. I never told him the way I told you. Maybe he didn't know. He said that he did, before, during his trial. But maybe he was just trying to make me feel better. What if he didn't know? What if he died all alone and didn't know that I loved him?" Her eyes were wet again, the fat tears slowly dripping down her face and nose.

"Bones, he knew. He knew, and he loved you right back. That's not something you need to worry about. He was damn lucky to have a daughter like you to love him, and he knew that." She swiped at the tears, he could see the determination work its way back into her eyes. He smiled at the comforting familiarity of that stubborn streak.

"Okay." She gave him a small kiss, then snuggled into him. A few minutes later he heard her breath even out and then he felt the drool that formed a wet spot on the pillow. He smiled to himself. Even in her misery and grief, Bones was still Bones, tomorrow would be tomorrow, and all of the pain that they had been forced to see each other through would eventually be worth it.


End file.
